


To Build A Home

by iwritewhenimhappy



Series: I'll Be Good [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Child Neglect, Dreams and Nightmares, Euthanasia, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mates, Mental Health Issues, Pack, Panic Attacks, Past Suicide Attempt, Past Trauma(s), Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritewhenimhappy/pseuds/iwritewhenimhappy
Summary: Life can change in an instant. Decisions can be final. And death is always permanent. Stiles learns this the hard way.





	To Build A Home

**Author's Note:**

> I don't add explicit tags as I think it takes away from the story but I did add enough for there to be obvious signs that this is not an easy read, and if you can't handle dark topics, you shouldn't be here.  
> This is a continuation from 'Wicked Game' and I would suggest reading that before this one. I would also like to take the time here to say thank you to all of the comments on that fic and let you all know how much it meant to me to read them. It kept me writing and continuing this story. This one is for all of you, I hope you enjoy.

_When his mom died he didn’t feel anything, nothing at all. There was this numb calmness that over took him. He watched the life drain from her body and his father’s grief. He watched it all and yet felt nothing. It was more of an inevitable moment that’s already happened so many times in his mind’s eye that now that it’s real, well, there’s no real distinction. Stiles felt nothing except a quiet relief that he let out like a breath of air he has been holding forever. He didn’t even realize it but he was running._

_He turned away from his father and he ran and ran down hallways in the hospital. Nurses and the occasional doctor would look his way but mostly he was ignored. Then again he was running so fast it’s hard to say if anyone could have caught him or tried to stop him. All he knew was that his lungs were filling and breathing was becoming impossible. The image of his mother’s eyes half closed, stuck in that moment, her hair half pulled out. Her body small and crippled from not being able to feed herself as the disease in her brain took over. The image of her eyes trained on him, that image stuck in front of his eyes as he tries to run away from it. It doesn’t work._

_Instead he finds himself in a bathroom at the end of the fourth floor. He has his knees held up to his chest and he’s breathing like he’s dying. He doesn’t understand why or how. All he knows is the image of her face, of her fingers bony and tight. He doesn’t feel grief like he’s supposed to, he knows that much, all he feels is panic and relief, and more panic from that relief. What kind of son does that make him? What kind of person? What if he isn’t really a person?_

_> <><><>< _

“Stiles, buddy, I got here as soon as I could.” Scott says breathlessly as he runs up to him. Stiles doesn’t respond, all of his attention focused on his father laying in the hospital bed on the other side of that glass window. He got his own private room pretty easily, being the Sheriff and good friends with one of the nurses, Scott’s mom, Melissa. Stiles should be in there but he can’t do it. They were putting in a central line and blood just kept pouring out. They couldn’t find the vein at first and he felt sick. He had to leave. He shouldn’t have left but he had to. “How is he?”

“Not good.” Is all Stiles can manage to say.

“Look, I- I didn’t tell Derek but I heard Laura talking to him and he seems worried. He knows somethings wrong, he’s your mate Stiles he-”

“Don’t. Just- Not today Scotty.”

 Scott stops talking then as he hears the raw grief and pain in his best friend’s voice. It sends shivers down his spine and makes his heart constrict in sympathy. “I’m sorry.” He tells him, unsure, unable to say anything else. What else can you say in a time like this, except, “What can I do?”

 Stiles pauses and then looks. His eyes are filled with unshed tears as he says, “Don’t go away again.”

 The guilt that has always been there but just out of sight squeezes at Scott’s heart. What has he done? What did he do to Stiles? His best friend? His brother? “I won’t.” Scott’s voice is firm, promising when he manages to voice words.

 Stiles nods his head, not quite being able to believe Scott but needing to as he looks back to his father’s unconscious, terrified form. He takes a deep breath and then walks over to the door. He pushes it open and walks in, his feet unbearably heavy.

 When his mother was dying- when she died he felt nothing but relief and panic. Now that his father- all he feels is a pain, a grief that threatens to swallow him whole. He can’t focus on anything but that and the pain- the suffering his father is feeling. It’s almost impossible for him to face it. Almost.

><><><>< 

“Scott called you, didn’t he?” Stiles asks, not having, nor wanting to turn around to know that it’s Derek Hale standing behind him. He’s sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs next to his dad’s bed. He looks so fearful and yet Stiles knows he’s not even conscious, he can feel it. He can feel his father’s fear like it’s his own and he can feel his pain just the same. His eyes have tears but he won’t let them fall. He can’t. To let them fall is to admit defeat. To say that this is real, that his father might not get better. That he’s…

“He didn’t have to.” Derek answers. His fingers brush up against Stiles’ shoulder, an itch to comfort but Stiles doesn’t need it- can’t handle it so he pulls away sharply. It’s a clear sign to Derek not to try and touch him again. He knows somewhere in the back of his mind that it might hurt Derek to reject him- to reject his comfort but he can’t think about that right now. He doesn’t have that much in him to worry about that and his father.

“I can’t- I need you to go.” Stiles says after a long moment of silence. Derek still stands behind him but he hasn’t seen him, he won’t look at him because if he does- well he can’t. He doesn’t want him here. Derek makes him feel real, like a person and he- he can’t be that right now. He needs to make all these decisions. He needs to be strong like he’s had to do his whole life. He can’t be that and do that with Derek here. With Derek pulling and making him feel things.

“Stiles-”

“I can’t do this if you’re here. Please just- just go.”

 It takes a few minutes but finally Derek nods his head and starts to back away. Stiles feels him do so and then hears the door shut behind him but he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t even glimpse at him.

><><><>< 

_“Are those all of your cousins?” Stiles asks as gently and kindly as he can. He can feel the pain and guilt that engulfs Derek as he looks at all of the family pictures. Most are kids laughing and smiling, some are adults and teenagers with amused glints in their eyes. Stiles can clearly recognize Derek in one of them, actually smiling looking open and alive. He sees Talia with her husband and Peter with a woman that is most likely his mate. They don’t talk about it much, but Stiles knows enough and has heard enough to know that some have lost mates. Talia is the Alpha and is responsible for the pack, it’s what’s kept her going even after losing her mate. She had something to focus on, a job that is not just a job but part of her. Peter never had that. Stiles never had that either._

_“Can I ask you something?” Stiles says nervously as the need, the feeling to do something overwhelms him. He usually supresses these urges- well he’s not really sure what to call them but urges fit. He usually suppress theses urges of needing to do something when it comes to the pain and confusion, of guilt he comes across but there’s also a pull that comes with Derek. The combination is almost impossible to ignore._

_Derek nods in answer but it’s not as reassuring as a verbal response would have been. Stiles wants to say forget it but he can’t. “Why- Why do you feel guilty? I- I thought- I know who did this. It wasn’t you.”_

_The pain is tenfold and Stiles reaches out before he can stop himself. His hands finds its way to Derek’s arm as he squeezes gently in what he can only hope is a reassuring touch. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”_

_“No. No, you should know.” Derek responds. He doesn’t shake off Stiles’ hand but he doesn’t reciprocate the touch either. He knows, even through his grief and pain of his family tragedy he’s reliving that Stiles can’t be pushed on this and it makes Stiles feel his own guilt starting to reside. He doesn’t deserve Derek. He doesn’t deserve a mate, or any of this. He just doesn’t. “I- I- She tricked me but I- I wanted… Kate Argent set the fire and killed them but I gave her the tools to do it.”_

_“What do you mean?” Stiles asks confused, trying his hardest not to remove his hand, not wanting to seem like he’s rejected him in anyway._

_“She- Me and her- we… I was young and stupid.”_

_It hits Stiles like a ton of bricks. “It’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault, right?”_

_“Yeah. I do now.” Derek answers Stiles demanding questions with confidence but there’s still a hint of uncertainty in his words. “My mom- she’s a good person. She just wants the best for us. I know she may come off across as-”_

_“A hardass?” Stiles supplies in the hopes of lightning the mood slightly. It works as Derek’s lips upturn into a small smile. Stiles’ stomach does a flip._

_“Yeah, but she- she never blamed me once and she got me help. She helped me. I don’t- I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. None of us would I don’t think.”_

_“You’re lucky to have her then.”_

_“Well, you know what it’s like. You have your dad.” Derek says with a slightly questioning tone in his voice._

_“Yeah.” Stiles says in reply but also in a way of an answer as a realization hits him. “I have my dad.”_

_> <><><>< _

 It’s quiet in the hospital, almost eerily so, but Stiles is glad for the silence. He needs it. He needs the space to make this decision. His grief isn’t gone but it’s been pushed entirely to the side as he looks down at his father’s form, at his heavy breathing and his painful existence. They can do some stuff, the doctors said so but it’s a long shot and it will hurt. Besides, it might take too long to get him to a different hospital, a bigger one with more options. They’d drive him by ambulance and even then it wouldn’t be until tomorrow. His father might not even- he might not even make it until then, and he is suffering. Stiles can see it and he can feel it.

 When his father had his first heart attack they said his chances weren’t the greatest but he beat the odds and got back to work. Mostly for Stiles sake but that says something, doesn’t it? And yet when his mom got so sick, before the heart attack, they didn’t try. There wasn’t much they could do and she was never supposed to live very long anyway, so they let her go. Maybe- He has to let his father go. He doesn’t want to but it’s what has to be done.

 Stiles realizes that he’s already made the decision, his decision when he first got the new of how sick his father had become, it’s just taken him awhile to sort through all of the details in his head.

><><><>< 

 He doesn’t feel like he’s there, physically as he gets out of the chair and walks over to the machines. He flips the switch and watches as the machine stops breathing for his father. There’s only one nurse on this floor tonight and she took her smoke break a minute ago. She won’t be back for fifteen. Long enough.

“I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry.”

_His dad opens his eyes and there’s fear but relief too. It doesn’t take long before the life leaves them and Stiles is left with the cold lifeless body. His dad is gone. He’s gone. Where did he go? Where is he? He’s gone. But where?_

“Daddy?”

><><><>< 

 The drive back to his house is uneventful and for the most part peaceful. Derek drives and Scott is in the passenger seat at Stiles insistence. Stiles meanwhile sits in the back alone and with space which is what he needs right, what he can handle at the moment. He wasn’t expecting it to turn out like this. He thought Scott would borrow his mom’s car and drive him home but Derek was nearby. In fact he was in the parking lot of the hospital since he first got there. Stiles should have known that he wouldn’t have gone far if past experiences are anything to go by, but he was hoping for him to.

“We’re here.” Scott says turning to looks behind him to Stiles. Stiles sees this out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t respond verbally, instead he gets out of the car and walks up to his house, his home. The only home he’s ever known. The only place he’s ever felt safe and secure, yet alone and so much more.

 His key fits into the lock and he walks in. He can smell the distinct calounge of his father as though he just left for work for a night shift and Stiles is coming home from school, except that’s not how it is. It’s early morning and his father is gone. He walks in and then stops. His father’s jacket is slung over the kitchen table and there’s the smell of burned food from a few days ago. His father’s food.

“We’ll clean this up.” Scott is quick to say as he and Derek walk into the house, Derek closing the door behind them.

 Stiles doesn’t respond. He feels numb and he needs to take a shower. It’s what he does after school, he takes a shower. “I need a shower.”

 Derek and Scott don’t say anything. Derek probably because he’s not a talker and Scott because he probably doesn’t know what to say. Stiles doesn’t really care. He needs a shower. He feels dirty. He smells like a hospital. He hates hospitals. Always has.

 The water is hot but it feels like nothing to Stiles when he finally gets into the shower. His movements are robotic as he shampoos and then uses his body wash. He rinses off and turns the water off. He usually stays longer under the water, making it hotter and hotter but right now it doesn’t feel like anything and he has to go.

“Hey.” Scott’s there suddenly when Stiles opens the door and he seems nervous, unsure. “I’m going to stay here for a few days, maybe longer. Derek- he- um, well he might too. I know that if it was Allison I would-”

“Please, Scott I…” Stiles says, interrupting him as he closes his eyes briefly, a long heavy breath escaping his body. For once in his life he doesn’t feel panic. He feels nothing. “I’m tired.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll be downstairs…? If you need me.”

 Stiles nods his head than walks past him to his room. He shuts the door and takes a moment to breathe freely. He looks over to his bed relief hits him like a ton of bricks. He makes his way over and crawls under. He didn’t bother to turn any lights on and the darkness, the coolness of his room is a comfort. Usually it takes him awhile to fall asleep but this time he finds sleep comes easy. Easier than it has in a long time.

><><><>< 

 When Stiles wakes up everything is like it was when he fell asleep. There’s a calm and peacefulness, numbness that covers and holds him. He feels lost in it until suddenly it all strips away as reality sets in and the cold truth hits him. His father is gone. His father is dead. He doesn’t think it in words or even in actions, it just hits him with a wall of emotions that all translates to that truth. He thinks- he thought that it would be easy. His mom dying wasn’t easy but it didn’t, it never felt like this.

 He’s uncontrollable, his shoulders heaving and his eyes filling with tears. They fall as quickly as their made and the sobs rack his body like a car crashing over and over. At first he tries to be quiet but that doesn’t last long as the raw grief explodes out of him. Usually when one cries they stop after a while and the sorrow ceases for the most part, but that doesn’t happen here. He feels like he could cry forever, and it’s not just crying, it’s not just sobs that come out but a desperate inhuman sound. He’s screaming his grief and his pain. Something he’s never done before, never been able to do but now it’s all he is.

 It doesn’t take long for his bedroom door to fly open and Derek to come running in with Scott close behind. “Sweetheart,” Derek whispers the endearment as he sits on the bed next to Stiles who has his face in his hands. They’re soaked with salty tears as the screams claw and yell out. Derek doesn’t touch him, not at first, not wanting to make it worse but then he seems to think to hell with it as he wraps his arms around Stiles. Stiles first instinct as always is to get out of this touch, this violation of space but the grief is all that consumes him and that violation disappears. It becomes none existent as the wolf’s arms come around him and bring him close. He stills screams and sobs but he’s held down by something, by an anchor. If he wasn’t so out of it he might realize how desperate he’s needed it.

 “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, Stiles, I’m here.” Derek says slowly and softly even though Stiles voice is screaming, yelling in pain.

 Scott stands almost awkwardly at Stiles’ bedroom door, a look of horror and pain in his features. He watches them for a few moments before sitting down on the bed on the other side of Stiles. He doesn’t touch, only sits there and lets him know that he’s not going anywhere, not again, not ever.

><><><>< 

 He’s scared to fall asleep. He’s scared to forget and then wake up to the horrifying truth and have to live through it all over again. He’s afraid to dream, to see his father’s face, his eyes, his warmth, and his soul. He’s afraid to be alone again. He’s afraid to do anything. He sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped over him and a book in his hand. Derek and Scott are on the other couch pretending they’re watching whatever’s on TV. Stiles would appreciate that if he had the capacity. Instead he focuses on his book. He’s reading about 19th century heiresses and heirs. The words are different to our modern ones but it helps. Nothing else does, but this book, reading, it helps. He can focus on it and nothing else. He can’t do that when he tries to watch TV or tries to do anything else really.

“Scott?” Stiles says, his voice wobbily. Every time he tries to speak or tries to do anything other than read the tears and grief threaten to pour out, to scream out.

“Yeah, buddy?” Scott says in quiet voice as he scoots to the edge of his seat. They’d do anything to help, but they can’t, not really.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?”

 Derek’s lip curls but before a growl can escape he reigns it in. Stiles is his mate and if this is what he needs than that’s what he can have. He doesn’t need his jealousy or his instincts to get in the way.

“Is that okay?” Stiles asks as Scott looks to Derek for permission. Derek nods his head and Scott turns to Stiles.

“Of course.” Scott says in earnest as Derek bites back the urge to hit something.

“I- I have to go. I’ll be back later.” Derek says suddenly as he gets up, his eyes flashing their wolfy blue.

 Stiles doesn’t stop him, doesn’t have the energy, and even though Scott looks like he wants to, he doesn’t either.

><><><>< 

“I don’t want them here!” Stiles yells at Scott as he walks into his room and throws his blankets off. He’s been meaning to wash them for weeks now and it’s just never happened. Now he has time though and why not?

“Stiles, they’re trying to help.” Scott says as kindly as he can. “They knew your father too.”

“Don’t! Don’t. They knew nothing about him.”

“Stiles-”

“I loved him more than anything in this world, Scott. More than anyone and now- They don’t know what that’s like. They don’t get to pretend that he meant something to them when he… He was my dad. I should have- I…” Stiles can’t finish his words. His voice breaks when he says ‘dad’ and it’s all downhill from there. Scott reaches out to take him into his arms, to offer the comfort of a best friend, of a brother, but Stiles doesn’t want it. He doesn’t need it. He pulls away instead and turns back to his task at hand.

“I have to wash my blankets before it gets too late.”

“Stiles-”

“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, Scott, then I need you to go.”

 A long pause of silence before, “I’ll be downstairs if you- if you need anything.”

><><><>< 

 Stiles moves from the kitchen into the living room. He has his father’s jacket in one hand and his mug in the other. It says world’s greatest dad and Sheriff in bold black. He got it for him a few father’s days back. His dad smiled and said he loved it. Stiles smiled too and felt elated. He felt so happy to see his dad happy. He felt his happiness and let it sink into him, help to become his own.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek asks as he looks up from his spot on the chair in the living room. Stiles doesn’t answer him, instead he keeps taking things, picking up his father’s blanket, his socks he left lying around, and then his coaster, the one his mom made. He takes all of these things, all of these reminders and runs upstairs. He opens his father’s bedroom door and ignores the smell of his after shave as best as he can. He dumps the items on the bed next to the others he gathered and swiftly walks out. He closes the door behind him and locks it. When he turns from it he finds Derek’s concerned eyes looking at him.

 Stiles doesn’t owe Derek an explanation but the tug in his gut tells a different story. It pulls and pulls until finally Stiles says, “I can’t- I can’t- not with his stuff everywhere.”

“If you need… You can always stay at the pack house.”

 Stiles shakes his head. “This is my home. I’m not going to abandon it.” I’m not going to abandon him.

><><><>< 

“I need you both to go.” Stiles tells them as they all sit down in the living room the next morning. Stiles made a pot of coffee and he’s managed to eat more than one bite of food. Derek and Scott silently cheer for this one small victory.

“Go?” Scott says. “Stiles, buddy, we’re not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. Not like this.”

“I’m fine.” Stiles says and he doesn’t have to be a werewolf to know that it’s a lie. He sees the doubt and argument that threatens to unload from Scott and Derek so he quickly backtracks. “I’m not okay, but I- I need to be alone. I need my space back. I’m not used to- to strangers in my space.”

 It’s a harsh word to use, strangers and Stiles quickly sees the hurt it causes to his friends. “You know what I mean.” They don’t but neither really wants to argue, not when a few days ago Stiles was screaming in the worst kind of pain.

“Stiles, sweetheart, we’re not just going to leave.” Derek tells him as gently as he can, the endearment slipping out for the second time that week. Stiles doesn’t comment on it, but that might just be because he doesn’t have the capacity to really care about anything right now. “You shouldn’t be on your own. Trust me, I know.”

 Stiles looks up then and meets Derek’s concerned eyes. “You guys, you can come over if you want during the day but I need- I need to be me again. I need my routine.” It’s the best way that he can explain it but even so Stiles knows it’s a tough sell. “Please. If you want to help me, you’ll go.”

 And if you don’t, I’ll make you.

><><><>< 

_“My dad like’s his whiskey.” Stiles tells Scott with a smile as he looks over his shoulder to him._

_Scott laughs. “I can see that. Should we take the whole bottle, though? Won’t he notice if it’s missing.”_

_“Scott, Scotty, you leave the bottle and take the booze.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Oh, dear, innocent, Scott.” Stiles says with a shake of his head as he takes the water bottle from the cupboard and brings it down next to the bottle. He pours a good amount then takes the whiskey bottle to the sink filling it up with water. He puts the whiskey bottle back then looks to Scott with a smile. “This is what I mean.”_

_Scott’s smile widens._

><><><>< 

 He didn’t put all of his father’s things away. He left out the bottle of whiskey, a new one that he just got. One that Stiles hadn’t stolen from. One that hasn’t even been open yet. He cracks the lid off quickly and then takes a sip. It’s stronger than he’s remembered, his once high tolerance gone after months of sobriety. He’s smart enough to have expected this and picks up the soda he brought along to help it go down easier. It’s Pepsi. His dad always hated Pepsi, he always said that coke was better.

><><><>< 

_“Oh, Scotty.” Stiles says slowly, his words slurred together from the alcohol as he lays back. His head lands on Scott’s lap and his eyes meet the night sky._

_“I think you’ve had enough.” Scott says with a laugh as he takes the whiskey filled water bottle out of Stiles hands and hides it behind his back. Stiles reaches out trying to grab it but he is pretty drunk and only ends up pouting in response. This only serves to make Scott laugh harder._

_“No fair.”_

_“Way fair.”_

_“You’re comfy.” Stiles says as he turns and curls up, his head still in Scott’s lap. Scott chuckles at his drunk friend and lets his hand fall into his short hair. He pets it slightly, almost out of instinct and Stiles sighs. Scott stops, pulling his hand away but Stiles voice stops him, “Don’t.”_

_Stiles reaches out and takes Scott’s hand putting it back in his hair. Scott smiles, slightly tipsy himself and continues the movements. Stiles smiles in contentment and Scott smiles too. Stiles has never been a physical person but this he allows. He looks so vulnerable. For the first time in a long time Scott wonders what happened to his friend, to his brother that made him the way he is._

_“I love you, Scotty.” Stiles says as his eyes fall shut._

_Scott smiles, his hand making its way into Stiles’ who holds on tight, wrapping it around him like a shield. “I love you, too.” Maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him say it, maybe it’s something else._

><><><>< 

“You forgot my birthday.” Stiles says it seemingly out of nowhere as he looks out at the upcoming morning sun. Scott sits next to him on the bench on the porch of the Stilinski household. Each have a cup of coffee in hand, Stiles with his usual and Scott with his ‘special creamer.’ He’s the real drama Queen in this friendship but everyone always assumes it’s Stiles, and yeah sure he’s more vocal about things but it’s Scott who has to have everything just so, not him.

“What?” Scott asks as he looks to Stiles, fear written in his features.

“My birthday. It’s a week before yours. We used to have a party together, remember? Our- you’re mom and my- my- they’d collaborate.”

“Oh, God, Stiles I’m so-”

“It’s okay.” Stiles quickly says as he feels the immense guilt Scott is bombarded with. “I mean it’s not but I- It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m so sorry, buddy.” Scott apologizes quickly before Stiles can stop him again. Then almost to himself he adds, “That’s why Derek was so angry at me.”

“ _He_ was angry?”

“Yeah, man, I mean, jeez. It all makes sense now. We’re were out running- us, the pack and he- knocked me over.”

“He did what?” Stiles asks surprised. “And you let him?”

“He’s like third in command. Anyway I mean, I thought it was an accident but I guess he was smirking.” Scott explains as he takes a sip of his coffee, lost in the memory of that day. He’s about to look over and say sorry to Stiles again, to tell him that he’ll make it up to him but before he can a noise escapes Stiles. Scott looks over quickly and sees Stiles covering his mouth as best as he can. Worry fills him as he places his coffee on the ground and holds out his arms, to comfort, to do something- anything.

“I’m sorry it’s just-” Stiles cuts himself off as he can’t hold it in any longer and removes his hand. The laughter bubbles up and leaves his mouth in one large continuous noise. He bends over as the hysterics and hilarity of it all kicks in.

“Stiles, buddy, are you laughing?”

 Stiles tries to say something but doesn’t get far as the laughter over takes him once more. His shoulders shake and his ribs ache as he pictures wolfy Scott being knocked over by wolfy Derek. The look of confusion and pouting he must have done. It’s really not that funny expect it really is.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks as a smile slips onto his own features.

 Stiles looks up and laughs even harder. Scott tries to put on a bravado but quickly loses it as the laughter becomes too contagious to ignore.

“I leave you guys alone for five minutes.” Derek says as he narrows his eyes at the young men, his own coffee cup in hand. Both Stiles and Scott look up at him then simultaneously burst into even louder laughter that brings tears to Stiles’ eyes. Derek knows this isn’t normal laughter, so does Scott and hell even Stiles does but it is laughter, and it’s something other than the black hole of grief; even if it does only last minutes.

><><><>< 

“Does your suit and tie still fit from your aunt’s funeral?” Scott asks as he walks into Stiles’ room. His closet door is open and the suit is hanging up in front of Stiles. He stares at it like it’s some foreign, alien object that has no name or meaning yet. He doesn’t even respond to Scott’s first question, prompting the wolf to try again. “You need help tying the tie? Honestly I still don’t know how but I think Derek does.”

“I’m not going.” Stiles says at last after a long moment of silence.

“Stiles…”

“I’m not going.”

“Your dad would have wanted you to-” Scott tries again but is quickly cut off.

“Don’t.” Stiles says harshly before turning around, tears in his eyes. “I can’t do this. I need you to go and- and put on the show.”

“Stiles… It’s not a show it’s-”

Stiles turns back sharply and says, with no room for argument, “I know what it is and I’m not going.”

><><><>< 

“Laura! Get the cubs! Laura! Laura!” A very familiar voice yells. It brings Stiles out of his slumber abruptly and yet slowly as his head swims. He knows that voice. It comes back as he sits up and gets out of bed. After the funeral Derek and Scott asserted that one of them was going to stay with him, for this night at least. Stiles would have argued if he wasn’t so empty, so at a loss for energy.

“Derek?” Stiles calls as he walks down the stairs. His brain is all fuzzy and his movements seemingly jelloy somehow. “Derek?”

 He walks down the stairs as quickly as he can and makes his way to the couch where the large frame of a man lays. It’s no doubt Derek under a blanket, his mouth opened, yelling, screaming. It sounds sort of muffled, almost like he can’t form words properly and Stiles vaguely remembers reading about REM sleep and paralysis but he doesn’t have time for that. Derek is hurting and the resulting tug at his core, at his center is almost unbearable.

“Derek?” Stiles says softly as he kneels in front of the man. “Hey, it’s me, buddy, it’s Stiles. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 Derek’s face is scrunched up in terror and Stiles feels almost frantic as the helplessness of the situation sets in. His words, his voice isn’t working to wake the wolf up so he should trying something else and he knows what that something else is but it terrifies him. It makes his skin crawl and a stone of uncomfortableness set in his stomach, and yet that tug, that pain, it’s too much.

“Derek.” Stiles says it like prayer as his hand tugs at the blanket. He pulls it down slightly and finds Derek’s hands clutched onto the fabric of the sofa. Stiles takes a deep breath and very slowly reaches out to place one of his hands on Derek’s curled ones. Almost instantly the wolf’s hands stop clutching and Derek’s face smooths out. “Derek?”

 He doesn’t answer, his breathing is slowed and he’s fast asleep. Stiles blinks back the tears of Derek’s pain that he felt like his own and goes to take his hand off Derek’s. Almost immediately Derek whimpers and the pain returns, the nightmares right behind it. Stiles doesn’t want to feel that again let alone have Derek feel it anymore. The terror was so real so- Stiles hand lands on Derek’s once again and Derek stills. His breathing evens out and he’s back to sleep again.

“What is this witchcraft?” Stiles whispers to himself, his eyes wide as he thinks that maybe now is a really good time to re-read his textbook on werewolf and human relations from last year’s class on it. Stiles distinctly remembers there being a chapter on mates. Now if only he can remember where he put the book.

><><><>< 

“Stiles.” It’s more of a statement than anything else but there’s a lingering question and confusion that makes Stiles look up from his book and to Derek as quick as lightning.

“You’re awake.” Stiles says as the realization of their predicament comes into glaring focus. He’s sitting on the floor, back to the couch where Derek lays with one hand in his. The book was distracting him that fact, of having someone touching him that now that he’s not reading his skin feels like it’s crawling. He pulls away and Derek frowns. “Sorry.”

“Are you- Did something happen?” Derek asks in concern as he sits up and Stiles stands. His butt feels all numb and his legs are wobbly from sitting in the same position all night that he quickly goes and sits down on the opposite couch, book still in hand.

“Yeah- no, no it’s just- Are you okay?”

“Why?”

“You were dreaming.” Stiles says slowly as he looks down at his book, unable to meet Derek’s eyes. “You were calling for Laura.”

“Oh.” Derek says looking down, a flash of pain in his eyes. He doesn’t offer up an explanation at first and Stiles doesn’t feel like it’s his place to ask, but then Derek says, “I always dream about her and the fire. She wasn’t even there but I- I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Stiles says unsure of what else he should say. He’s never been good at this, at being a person and having to interact with other persons. Having to comfort and do something for another, it’s difficult. He’s been in his own bubble, his own space for so long it’s almost impossible to know what to do now, not that it was ever easy before. He ends up saying something stupid. “Did you want breakfast?”

 Derek stares at him for a long hard moment before nodding his head. Stiles gets up and walks to the kitchen, guilt eating away any appetite he might have had but Derek’s probably starving, wolf’s eat more than humans so he brings out the bacon. Turkey bacon because his dad-

 His dad.

><><><>< 

“I’m going to school whether you like it or not.” Stiles tells Derek pointedly as he picks up his backpack and swings it onto one shoulder. His keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the kitchen facing off with Derek who got here a few minutes ago. He clearly doesn’t agree with this but Stiles doesn’t care.

“Stiles, it’s only been two weeks.” Derek says as kindly as he can. “You can take more time off.”

“No.” Stiles answers quickly before walking past Derek and toward the front door. He opens the door as Derek walks over. He holds it open and looks to the wolf. His eyes clearly say, ‘well? I’m going so you’re going too. So go.’ Derek wants to argue but Stiles is stubborn and this is his home. He knows by now how Stiles feels about his space.

“Fine.” Derek eventually growls out as he walks out of the door. Stiles is right behind him, locking the door before making his way to his jeep. Derek isn’t giving up though and follows him down the porch steps. “Stiles please just think about it.”

“I have thought about it, and I’m going. I can’t miss anymore school. I actually want to graduate before I’m thirty.”

“Stiles-”

“What!?” Stiles says in defense and mostly in fury at being so held up, so much under another’s thumb. He’s been looking after himself and his dad his whole life. He’s taken care of himself, no one else. He hasn’t had anyone ever telling him what to do and he certainly doesn’t need it now. “Just because according to some wolf law I’m your mate doesn’t make you my keeper, Derek. I don’t need you. I don’t need you here looking over my shoulder every five minutes. I know what I’m doing so just back off!”

 Derek’s eyes say more than words ever could and Stiles suddenly feels the twinges of guilt starting to set in but then he thinks of the overwhelming suffocation he’s felt ever since Derek and yeah, Scott too, have taken it upon themselves to be some sort of guardian angels. Watching over him and making sure he’s not alone. It’s infuriating and damn it he’s always been alone. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Stiles says in a softer tone, the anger dissipating and being replaced by sorrow. “But I need to do this. For him.”

 His voice breaks on that last word and before Derek can say or do anything he’s in his jeep, the door slammed shut, and the keys in.

><><><>< 

“What- What are you doing here?” Stiles asks tiredly as he rubs his eyes. It’s an hour after school got out and he’s been asleep ever since he got back. He’s been far more tired lately and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He already texted Derek and Scott not to come by unless they want to watch him sleep, luckily they both were busy with work, and who else would come by? All of those distant relatives he refused to meet or talk to who came for the funeral are long gone.

“I’m worried about you, Stiles.” Mellissa McCall says in her no-none-sense tone of voice that comes with years of being a nurse.

“Well, thanks, but I’m fine.”

 Stiles goes to shut the door but Melissa’s arms comes up and blocks the attempt. Stiles is far too tired to fight her as she pushes it open further and walks in. Stiles takes a step back and sighs as Melissa shuts the door behind her. “Look, I know you’re going through a lot but you’re not alone and your dad wouldn’t want you to be.”

“You have no idea what he would want.” His voice is angry, he’s angry. He hates people coming in and saying all these things about his dad when they barely spent time with him. He knows that Scott’s mom and his dad are friends- were. Were friends, but in the last year that’s changed, just like how him and Scott had changed.

“Actually, I do. When Claudia- When your mom passed away we sat down together and I helped him make his will.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stiles, he didn’t want you to have to worry about this kind of stuff.” Melissa says sadly and kindly all in one.

 Stiles swallows back the lump forming in his throat and says, “I thought- I mean, Scott said that you planned the funeral.”

“Your father did. After his heart attack and health scare a few years ago we went over everything in case something happened to him. His first will was simple, but then he started thinking about all the decisions and it was so hard for him after your mom, he didn’t want you to have to go through that.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“He made me your legal guardian if anything were to happen to him. Your old enough now but, well he left most of the paperwork with me. I’ve already worked out his assets, his pension and life insurance. Most of it is going to cover the hospital bills from your mom and from you but there will be enough left over for you to keep your house, and to go to school for the next couple of years.”

“Oh.” Stiles replies, not really sure what he’s supposed to say, what he should say. “I never thought about it.”

“I thought so. There’s a few papers that you have to sign but then everything should be settled. I can go over the details with you if you’re ready for that…?”

“Ms. McCall you don’t have to-”

“Stiles, ever since you were young you’ve been like family to me. You and Scott were always together. For John and I- We’re family, okay? I’m always here for you. I’m sorry I haven’t been the past couple of years but if I knew about everything that-”

“Thanks.” Stiles says, stopping her from saying things he’s not ready to hear just yet. “And that would be good. About going over everything. I can make some coffee?”

 Melissa smiles and nods.

><><><>< 

_“Stiles! Stiles? Stiles!?” A voice yells over and over but it all sounds fuzzy and far away. It’s not real, it’s not here. Just like his mom. Just like his dad. “Stiles, stay with me. Stay with me.”_

 His eyes open to a blinding light above him and the distinct smell of disinfectant and of _sick_. It’s all too familiar and overwhelming that it brings tears to his eyes. He searches for a memory of what got him here, of what he did but none will come. All that’s there is a blank wall and Melissa’s smile. He doesn’t remember anything after that. He didn’t at first either the last time this happened, so maybe it will come back? It has to, right? What did he do?

“Dad?” His voice is weak and barely audible, but it’s there and that’s enough to hold onto as a warm hand reaches out. “Dad?” The last time he was here he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t do anything with his mouth in fact as a tube was stuck down it breathing for him. He was paralyzed with it and his hands- Stiles looks down to the one that’s being held by another and finds that they’re not tied down like last time.

“It’s okay, Stiles, you’re okay.” Stiles looks up to the familiar voice and shudders. Derek. It’s not his dad, his dad- Oh god.

“What- What happened?” Stiles asks frantically as he looks around the hospital room. He notices the clock immediately, five after six. It was an hour after school when Melissa came over. Around four he’s sure. He’s lost two hours.

“Shh, hey it’s okay.” Derek says worriedly as his hand squeezes in what he probably hopes to be a reassuring gesture but it only makes Stiles feel more anxiety filled as he pulls away from the touch. His chest is starting to heave and he knows a panic attack is not far off. What happened? Why is he feeling so- he was fine, why- “Stiles, calm down. It’s okay. You had a seizure and I called an ambulance. They took you here to the hospital. That was yesterday. It’s Thursday today.”

“What?” Stiles’ chest slows as the truth dissolves into his bones. “I had a-”

“Mr. Stilinski?” The door opens and a doctor enters. Stiles knows him of course, everyone does he is the town’s doctor since the eighties. Dr. Evans and Melissa who appears behind him with worried look on her face.

“Yeah.” Stiles says to the doctor.

“How are you feeling?” He walks over with a small pen light and proceeds to check his pupil reactions.

“Fine. Sore, actually.”

“You had a minor seizure. It’s to be expected. You’ve been unconscious since you were brought in yesterday which concerned us but after we got your results it’s starting to make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks confused and a little disoriented.

“Well, um, shall we speak alone?” Dr. Evans looks to Derek and in turn so does Stiles. His face has turned into a hard look of resistance.

“Yes, please.” Stiles says, his body rigid, ready to fight Derek on this because it is none of his business. Mate or not, **it’s none of his business**.

“Mr. Hale, please wait outside.”

 Stiles coils in on himself waiting for onslaught but Derek doesn’t go there, he doesn’t even say anything. He simply gets up and walks out, surprising both Stiles and Melissa.

“So what’s wrong with me?” Stiles asks.

“I think you know, son.” Dr. Evans says in a more comforting, sympathetic voice. “I know it hasn’t been easy but your father wouldn’t have wanted you to turn to this. You know that you’re not supposed to mix your medication with alcohol or take higher doses without consulting your physiatrist first.”

 Stiles slumps back onto the bed, tuning out the oncoming lecture. He doesn’t need it. And what the hell does Dr. Evans or anyone else know about what his father would have wanted? Nobody knew or cared to know about him like he did. Nobody.

><><><>< 

 Derek ends up driving him home and it’s as awkward as Stiles pictured it to be when he said that he would. Neither of them speak and there’s tense atmosphere around them both. Stiles can sense that Derek wants to say something, a whole lot of something but he doesn’t. Instead he turns the radio on low and simply drives. Stiles doesn’t offer up any words himself and the time they finally get to his home he’s ready to jump out like the car’s on fire but then Derek speaks, and Stiles was so close.

“You had a seizure.” Derek states and Stiles immediately wants to say ‘thanks Captain Obvious’ but he’s tired and Derek has more to say. “I was- I was scared.”

 Derek turns to Stiles as his words drip with honesty. His eyes are filled with fear and his soul clutches in agony at the thought of it all. Stiles feels a tug so strong and an emotion so powerful that he leans over and brings Derek into a hug. His skin feels like it’s on fire and there’s panic where there should be comfort, but Derek hugs back tightly, and Derek feels better so it’s worth it. Stiles whispers, “I’m sorry.”

 He is. Sorry that is. He’s always hurting people, always doing the wrong thing, and feeling the wrong thing.

 Stiles pulls away from the embrace and sits back down on his own seat in the car. Derek’s eyes are full of something akin to wonder, and his hand reaches out as if to bring him back but Stiles flinches away and his hand stops in its tracks.

“I need a shower.” Stiles says, and then he’s out of the car and half running into his house. Once in there he leans back and tries to breathe. He doesn’t even bother going to his room and instead runs into the bathroom. He strips quickly, leaving the light on and checking everywhere. He turns the water to boiling and jumps in. His hands shake as he reaches for the soap and squirts it everywhere. He finds a small hand towel and scrubs. He scrubs hard over and over as his skin crawls like a hundred invisible insects are all over him. He scrubs.

><><><>< 

“What are doing here, Scotty?” Stiles asks softly as Scott walks into the house. Stiles shuts the door behind him and follows him into the living room. He has a look of worry and fear, and in turn Stiles feels guilty. Derek told him. He must have, or it was his mom.

“Derek called me and told me you were in the hospital last night.” Scott says, his voice rising in urgency. “What happened? What’s going on?”

 Stiles shakes his head and sits down on the couch. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Stiles, please, tell me what happened.”

 Stiles doesn’t respond causing Scott to take a deep breath and revaluate. He walks over and sits down beside Stiles. There’s a few moments of tense silence as Scott tries to put into words what he needs to say to get through to his friend. “Stiles, I’m worried. Talk to me, please, talk to me, brother.”

 At the word ‘brother’ Stiles head shoots up and his heart constricts. Maybe he really does care, maybe they all do. Maybe he was wrong. “I took too much of my medication.”

“You’re Adderall?” Scott questions as he searches Stiles face for the truth.

“Yeah, and I- I’ve been drinking.” On the last words Stiles eyes well up in tears, the words coming out more like a question as the fear of retribution for what he’s done sets in. He waits for the anger and disappointment but all Scott does is reach out and pull Stiles close. He pat’s his back gently, and rubs in a comforting and soothing touch.

“Why?” Scott asks and it’s a stupid question but maybe Stiles needs to answer it. To admit it out loud and make it real.

“It helps. It makes it bearable.” Stiles tells him. Then, as his voice breaks he whispers in raw honesty, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I’ll help you. We’ll help you.” Scott promises and Stiles wishes that he could believe him. All he feels is an emptiness, a whole in his gut that’s gaping. He needs something to fill it, but there’s nothing alive in this world that can, not anymore.

 Scott hugs him tighter.

Stiles feels like his skin is on fire.

><><><>< 

 It’s been two months and Stiles hasn’t seen Derek once in all that time. Scott’s been over and so has Melissa, but no one else. Not Derek. At first Stiles was grateful. He was glad to be rid of the uncomfortable all-consuming pressure that came with his presence. The guilt of not being able to give him more and the inability to even try. He felt lighter and more at ease but then things started to get worse.

 He washes his hands but he accidently touches the handle so he has to wash them again. The water splashes back and he has to wash them again. He picks up a sock off of the floor and his hands need to be washed again. They’re dirty. He’s dirty. He turns of the light and shuts the door to the bathroom. He didn’t touched the tiles in the right way before leaving so he has to go back and do it again. His hands touched the footstool and now they’re dirty so he has to wash them again. He has to wash a lot. He’s dirty.

“Stiles…” Melissa says in a tone that suggests a lecture and Stiles doesn’t need it, not today.

“I’m almost done.” Stiles bites out in anger. It’s not anger at Melissa, its anger at himself and what he has to do. He has to wash it away, the dirtiness. It takes seven washes before he feels balanced enough to leave the washroom and make his way downstairs. Melissa is taking him to see his physiatrist. He didn’t want to go because it never helps, but he has to if he wants his medication, and it does help, it really does, just not as much as maybe he needs. It works just enough for him to get by.

“You ready?” She asks with concerned eyes.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Stiles says trying to ignore them. “Don’t want to be late.”

><><><>< 

“Well, that was a waste of time.” Stiles says, his words dripping with anger at being put down into a situation he hates and doesn’t want to be in.

“Stiles, you have to give it a chance.” Melissa says one part kindly and another sternly. Her voice is eerily reminisce of his mother’s the night before when she came to him while he was sleeping. The excess of the Adderall may have caused a seizure but it also caused dreamless sleep. He misses that.

“I do. I have.” Stiles tells Melissa as he walks into his house, dropping his keys on the table. “A hundred times, probably, but it doesn’t help.”

“Stiles-”

“Please, can you go?”

 Melissa looks hurt by his words but she quickly masks it and says, “Scott will be by later. I’ll see you next week.”

 Stiles watches her go and waits until he hears the door click shut before letting a breath of air he’s been holding in since they left an hour and a half ago, out.

><><><>< 

“Hey, Scott?” Stiles asks as casually as he can as his friend takes the last slice of pizza between them. They’re sprawled out in his living room watching an action flick on a Friday night when Stiles finally gets the push to question his friend.

“Yeah?” Scott answers before taking a huge bite of his piece and looking to the TV as the main character chases the bad guy on a bike.

“Where’s Derek?”

 It’s supposed to be a simple question and one that’s not to be read into but Scott immediately freezes. He puts the slice of pizza down and grabs the remote, pausing the show. His whole body turns to Stiles and his face has concern but he answers as casually as Stiles asks, despite all of his actions to the contrary, “At the pack house I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay. Why hasn’t he been around…? Here.”

 Scott squirms uncomfortably before saying, “He’s giving you space.”

“What do you mean ‘space’?” Stiles asks as his heart beats faster, a squeezing sensation over taking it.

“Stiles, you’re his mate, he’d do anything for you, even if it hurts him. To be honest I thought you forgot about him.”

“Fuck you, Scott.” Stiles words are bitter and angry, and they come out of nowhere. It surprises both Scott and himself so much so that Stiles quickly takes it back, “Sorry.”

 Scott nods his head in understanding. “Me too. It’s just- it’s been four months, Stiles, I didn’t think you wanted to see him, or really cared.”

 Stiles looks down a little ashamed. He wanted to ask, to reach out to Derek but he couldn’t and honestly he didn’t want to just as much as he did want to. “I know. Is he okay?”

 Scott shrugs but Stiles can see the lie in it. “All I know,” Scott says slowly and carefully, “Is that I wouldn’t be. If it were me and Allison.”

 Stiles should be angry. What gives Derek or Scott the right to ask more of him- to put this responsibility of another’s happiness on him? Especially after what he’s- It’s not fair, but Stiles doesn’t feel angry. No, instead he simply feels more empty, and lost.

><><><>< 

“You came.” Stiles says calmly as he stares at the headstone, not needing to turn to see who the approaching footsteps belong to. He can feel him when he’s near, he doesn’t need the physical reassurance to that. He knows.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks a little desperately. Stiles called him ten minutes ago and asked him to come to the cemetery and before he could question him, Stiles hung up. It was concerning and it took his breath away. “Stiles?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Stiles answers, still staring at the words, ‘John Stilinski – Loving Father and Courageous Sherriff of Beacon Hills.’ “Nothing is right.”

“Stiles-” Derek tries again as he takes a step forward but then Stiles is talking and he knows that he needs to listen now. That’s what Stiles needs.

“When my mom died I felt panic and nothing else. When- When my dad, he was suffering. He was in pain. I did the right thing, didn’t I?”

 Stiles voice is breaking, he’s breaking and Derek doesn’t know what to do to stop it or to help him. He’s not even sure what Stiles is really talking about. What did he do? What could he have done? “There’s nothing you could have done, Stiles, he was sick.”

“I keep telling myself that, but what if he- what if he got better? What if there was something that could have been done but I just didn’t try hard enough? What if some sick part of me wanted him to die?”

 Derek’s hands come up and takes Stiles by the shoulders, turning Stiles towards him. One hand finds its way onto his cheek as he gently but firmly pulls his head up so that he’s facing him. “Look at me. Look at me.” Stiles does. “This is not your fault. There’s nothing that you could have done, sweetheart.”

 The levee breaks and Stiles pulls away as sobs force their way out. Derek goes to reach for him again as his heart aches for his mate. “No.” Stiles says before he can, “Don’t.”

“What can I do?” Derek asks completely helpless as he feels himself hurt for the one he loves. He needs to help, to do something, anything. “Please, Stiles, what can I do?”

“What did I do?” Stiles says but it’s too himself, not to Derek or anyone else. He turns back to his father’s grave and kneels. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stiles?”

“I killed him.”

“What?” Derek takes a step back.

“I killed him.” Stiles reiterates. “He was suffering so I killed him.”

 He doesn’t say that he let him die or that he let him go, he simply says that he killed him.

“I loved him more than anything in this world.” Derek’s face is horrified as he listens for the lie and finds none. “And I killed him.”

 Derek takes another step back and Stiles slips his head in his pocket. He feels the weight of the pocket knife, of the blade Scott got for him on his thirteenth birthday those few years back. It’s a comfort and a way out that he hoped he wouldn’t need. That he hoped he would be strong enough to ignore, but then his dad got sick and he killed him, and Derek- Scott too once he finds out- is backing away, from him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He says it over and over as the sobs and tears, the grief racks his body, his soul. “What did I do? What did I do?”

 Derek takes another step back.

Stiles grips the knife tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to see a Part 3, let me know, and let me know what you thought of this one.


End file.
